'Five hundred better.' said the foolish bull-driver, and pulled out the amount and showered it on the pile. The three conspirators hardly tried to conceal their exultation.
All diplomacy and pretense were dropped now, and the sharp exclamations came thick and fast, and the yellow pyramid grew higher and higher. At last ten thousand dollars lay in view. Wiley cast a bag of coin on the table, and said with mocking gentleness—
'Five thousand dollars better, my friend from the rural districts—what do you say NOW?'
'I CALL you!' said Backus, heaving his golden shot-bag on the pile. 'What have you got?'
'Four kings, you d—d fool!' and Wiley threw down his cards and surrounded the stakes with his arms.
'Four ACES, you ass!' thundered Backus, covering his man with a cocked revolver. 'I'M A PROFESSIONAL GAMBLER MYSELF, AND I'VE BEEN LAYING FOR YOU DUFFERS ALL THIS VOYAGE!'
Down went the anchor, rumbledy-dum-dum! and the long trip was ended.
Well—well, it is a sad world. One of the three gamblers was Backus's 'pal.' It was he that dealt the fateful hands. According to an understanding with the two victims, he was to have given Backus four queens, but alas, he didn't.